


Moments of Peace

by Tee2072



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), MCU, Person Of Interest - Fandom, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, White Collar
Genre: Feels, Joss is not dead, M/M, PWP, PoI Spoilers through S3, Smut, Somewhere since Avengers Assemble, Tiny bit of Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-02
Updated: 2016-04-23
Packaged: 2018-05-30 18:32:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6435685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tee2072/pseuds/Tee2072
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A series of short pieces of good moments in various characters lives. Perhaps a bit of angst, but always a happy ending.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Peter/Neal

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes? I just want a teeny tiny bit of angst and a whole lot of smut and feels.
> 
> AKA an antidote to Civil War, S2 of DareDevil, MAoS and all the shit that Marvel and others put our people through!! Let them be happy!!!
> 
> Starting with this, but there will be more ships/shows/ideas as they come to me. There's a Harold/John Person of Interest in my head as well that may be up in a few days!

As Peter woke up, he reached to his left, only to find no Neal and cool sheets. His heart thumped in fear as he surged upwards, “Neal!”

“Here, Peter,” came Neal’s voice from the balcony, “Shh, I haven’t left.”

Peter swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing sharply, “Of course not,” he said, his voice rough and stuck in his throat. He cleared his throat and tried again, “Of course not. After all, it’s your place.”

Neal let out a half snort, his heart a bit sore at how easily Peter had doubted him, “Come here,” he called, turning back to look over the city.

As Peter swung his legs over the side of the bed he could see Neal was wearing sleep pants, so he reached for his boxers. He felt at a slight disadvantage with even his legs exposed, so naked was out of the question, no matter how they had fallen asleep earlier.

As Peter approached him, Neal stepped back from where he was leaning on the balcony wall and gathered Peter into him, placing that lovely back against his chest. Neal’s arms encircled Peter’s waist as they snuggled together and Neal felt Peter relax into him. “You okay?” he whispered into Peter’s hair.

“I’m fine. Why aren’t you in bed?” The chest behind him was a bit tense, but not unwelcoming and he let himself relax further into Neal, trying to push his insecurities about himself and them away.

“I had this really weird dream and I didn’t want to wake you.”

Peter turned in Neal’s arms and wound his hands through the back of Neal’s hair, safe in the role as comforter. “What was it?”

Neal buried his face in Peter’s neck, speaking quietly next to his ear. “I’m not even sure I can explain it. It was colors and sounds and I don’t know what and in the center…” Neal paused and tensed up further.

“Hmm?” Peter continued to stroke Neal’s hair and the back of his neck, trying to loosen the tension.

Neal let out a shuddering breath, “Me. I was in the center and it was like being in a storm and I was calling you, but not out loud, in my head, and I couldn’t find you and…” Neal breathed out again and clung harder.

Peter snorted out a small half laugh, hugging Neal closer, “Sounds like my insecurities, not yours.”

Neal huffed out a breath and pulled back to look his lover in the eye, “Still? I was hoping that once we got to here, to making love, you’d be more sure of me. Of us.”

Peter swallowed hard again and bit his bottom lip as he looked at the face he knew so well. The face he had studied for years, never quite hoping they’d get to here. “I’m sorry. I’ve hoped for this for so long at the same time I’ve been expecting you to run. To hide from me and go back to what you were.” 

Neal tensed again and started to pull back. Peter tightened his grip, “Don’t. Don’t pull away, please?” Neal nodded and tried to relax again, 

“I’m trying to trust that part of you. I trust every other thing about you, Neal.” Peter looked the younger man right in the eye, “I trust you care about me, I trust you will protect me when we’re out there,” Peter waved a hand vaguely towards the city around them, “And I trust that you don’t want to hurt me. But…” 

Peter sighed again and leaned his forehead against Neal’s, “I can’t trust that if someone comes for you, whether your past or other feds or, god, even Mozzie, you won’t just leave instead of asking me to help, or…or even go with you.” Peter exhaled hard through his nose.

Neal exhaled as well, his brain churning with what Peter was saying. Thinking back over the dream where he knew was in trouble and all he wanted was Peter. Neal inhaled hard and pulled back to look Peter in the eye again, “Peter, I more than care about you. I love you. I’m in love with you. I have been for, god I don’t know, it feels like forever. And in the dream, I was trapped, in trouble I couldn’t understand and all I wanted was you. Your help.” Peter’s heart, which had begun to surge with the words ‘I love you’ surged more with the honesty in Neal’s eyes. “Peter, I’m not going anywhere without you. No matter what happens. No matter who comes for me. I’m yours. Tell me what to say so you’ll believe me.”

Peter began to slowly smile and drew Neal’s lips to his, “I think this might be more a show than a tell.”

Neal grinned into Peter’s kiss, wrapping his arms around the other man and sliding his hands down the lean back, to beneath the boxers. “Oh really. Earlier wasn’t enough of a show?” Neal whispered before deepening their kiss, his tongue tracing the inside of Peter’s mouth, his hands stroking the fine ass in his hands.

Peter tilted his head a little to the side to allow Neal better access to keep doing what he was doing. Peter’s hands mimicking Neal’s as they traced across Neal’s back and down beneath his sleep pants. One of Peter’s hands moved to circle Neal’s growing erection and the other began tracing along behind Neal’s balls to circle his still wet and slightly loose entrance. Peter let out a moan as Neal’s mouth moved from his, over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking and licking as it went. “No, not quite enough show.” Peter gasped out, “A total show would be you inside of me this time…”

The noise Neal made at that was nearly inhuman, a gasp and a moan and whimper all at once, “Oh god, yes please.”

Neither wanted to let go so the short walk back to the bed was clumsy and awkward until Peter tripped over the bed and brought them both down to it, Neal on top of him. Their increasing erections bumped together through their clothes and suddenly slow was no longer an option. Neal practically leaped up to push off his sleep pants and Peter had never removed his boxers so fast in his life. The lube and condoms from earlier were still on the side table and Neal stretched one long arm to grab them.

As he brought them closer, Peter’s legs and arms wrapped around him as Peter ground his hard cock into Neal’s stomach. “Please, Neal...” Peter begged as he pulled his legs high up Neal’s back.

“Shh,” Neal soothed as he pulled back a bit and began warming lube in one hand, “All the time in the world, Peter.”

Peter gasped as the tip of Neal’s finger began to breach him, first the tip, then up to one knuckle. One finger became two and then scissored and went deeper, finding Peter’s prostate on the next thrust, causing Peter’s back to arch and his legs to open even further. “Please, Neal, now…”

Neal pulled his fingers out and leaned back so he could open and place a condom, Peter’s eyes following every movement intensely. Neal put more lube on his cock and then slowly, carefully pushed inside his lover, who was panting and starting to move his hips. “Slow Peter…” Neal whispered.

“No!” Peter gasped and locking his arms and legs around Neal, he pulled until he was seated in Neal’s lap. He buried his tongue in Neal’s mouth as he began to ride him. 

Neal gave in the inevitable and just held on as Peter fucked himself on him, his hands sliding under Peter’s ass to help the sharp hard thrusts Peter was making. Peter’s cock was trapped between them, rubbing continuously on Neal’s tight abs, but it wasn’t quite enough friction and so Peter reached down between them and began stroking himself in time to his movement. 

As the tension built in both of them, Peter’s head fell back, exposing his throat to Neal’s seeking tongue. The two men were setting a bruising pace and Peter let out an almost triumphant moan as his orgasm ripped through him, so hard it hit the bottom of Neal’s chin as it covered his chest.

Peter sagged a bit as the orgasm passed and Neal leaned forward, putting Peter back on the bed, his cock still buried deep. He began moving again, Peter’s legs wrapped around him, his face in Peter’s neck, his own orgasm coming just a few strokes later.

“How about now?” Neal whispered in Peter’s ear. “Do you believe me now?”

“I may need a tiny bit more convincing later…” Peter said, a grin in his voice. “By the way, in case you didn’t know, I love you too.”

Fin


	2. Harold/John

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Plot? We don't need no stinkin' plot with smut like this!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this while waiting to see my doctor and uploaded it from the bus. Shame? I have none.

As John quietly entered their bedroom he paused in the door. His lover lay on his front, naked from at least the waist up, the duvet pushed to the floor and a sheet covering from his bottom to his ankles.

One arm was under his head, his face turned away. His other arm was flung out across his pillow as though Harold was reaching for John in his sleep.

As John looked his fill, Harold sighed and turned to his side, completely facing away from John.

As he moved, the sheet slid, uncovering his legs and barely covering his bottom. Harold's  left leg shifted forward and the sheet drifted lower. John felt himself start to harden at the shadow he could see between his legs.

In one motion he pulled off the t-shirt and sweats he was wearing and let them fall to the floor. He slid behind Harold nestling his half hard cock into the hollow between his legs.

Harold moaned, slowly waking and pushing back against John.

"Nice dream?" He asked, breathing directly into Harold's ear before pressing his lips, led by his tongue, along the shell and down his lobe.

"Mmmm," he mummured, turning for a kiss. "It started a bit like this, actually." Harold grinned back at John and leaned in for another.

"And this?" John whispered as he slid down his back, kissing and licking Harold's spine as he went, ending by burying his face between his lover's legs, spreading his cheeks and nuzzeling along behind his balls and into his ass.

Harold's only response was a low moan as John's tongue pushed inside of him and a hand fondled his balls. After a bit he switched, John's tongue lapping his balls and two slick fingers moving in and out of him.

Harold pushed back, embedding John's fingers further into himself and started to keen, the pleasure begun in his dream continuing in the waking world.

"Please..." he half whined and tried to turn onto his back. 

He held Harold still and replied, "Please what?" and added a scissoring motion to his fingers, stretching him gently as he finger fucked up into Harold.

"Please fuck me with your cock!" He groaned out as John's licks turned to sucks and his fingers moved faster.

"Oh I will," he replied, his fingers replacing his tongue so he could talk. "I am going to make you come like this and then, while you're still shaking from that one, I'm going to turn you over and mount you and fuck you to another one."

"Very...ambitious...Mr Reese." Harold ground out. "I'm not a young man!"

"Hmm...true," John replied and  immediately rolled him over and dragged himself up Harold's body, pushing his legs apart and up. As soon as he was in place he slid his rock hard cock into him and began fucking deeply.

Both of their moans filled the air as his movements quickly became a bit erratic. Harold's hand began stroking his own cock as John's brushed against his prostate. Harold's mouth fell open as he covered both of them with his release.

John's hips stuttered as he felt Harold clench around him. His head fell back and his yell filled the room as he came hard inside his love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phil and Clint are up next.
> 
> And then maybe Matt and Foggy.


	3. Team Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of peace for the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay. Phlint got bumped for this one. In which there is no sex. Sorry. :D
> 
> Joss lived. Spoilers up through the end of Series 3. Which is as far as I've seen.

Occasionally, once in awhile, there were no numbers. No one to save. Brief moments of peace, really, when the six of them, seven if you count Bear, would find themselves at what they had all agreed was the best of the safe houses, if only for the huge sectional sofa with a chaise lounge on either side. It was in front of a huge fireplace, a real one, that burned actual wood and not gas with fake logs.

This night they were all, more or less in their usual spots. John was stretched out on one of the chaise lounges, glass of whiskey in his hand, Harold sitting between his legs, his head to one side of John's so he could talk to his lover and the others. Harold had wine in his glass, having decided it was a wine kind of night. As opposed to a whiskey kind of night.

The other chaise lounge was filled with a pile of Shaw, Root, and Bear, in that order. Harold was often heard to mutter at Bear, calling him a traitor when he was not pleased with Root and Bear chose her and Shaw over him and John. John would just smile, knowing Harold didn't mean it. Bear might have been smiling as well. It was hard to tell.

The rest of the sofa was taken up with Lionel and Joss, Joss' head in Lionel's lap, as usual, Lionel's feet up on the wooden coffee table, between the cartons of the left over Chinese food they were still half picking at. They weren't lovers, just partners who trusted each other totally and shared in mutual physical comfort of various sorts when it was needed. Lionel was often seen with his hand on the scar on Joss' neck, where Simmons' bullet had grazed her rather than taking her by the jugular. He thanked God regularly, both silently and to anyone who was around to listen, that Simmons was such a crap shot, even at close range. 

This night, of no numbers, was after several weeks of numbers right after the other. Some they saved. Some they jailed. And some they failed. 

But tonight, as all numberless nights, wasn't for talking about past cases, not even failures. Tonight was to just be together, have a drink, some good food, and conversation. Privately, to Root, Shaw called them the lamest team building exercises ever. But she and Root both enjoyed the nights as much as anyone on the team.

Shaw had been staring pensively into the fire, half listening to Joss and Lionel talk about their sons, when she spoke, "Have you guys ever considered where we might be if we'd never met?"

John took a sip of his whiskey and said, "I'd be dead." Harold tightened his hold on John's hand.

"Or even," Shaw continued, ignoring John, "If Harold had never created The Machine?" She abruptly sat up straighter, disturbing Root and Bear, "I mean, I remember reading books when I was a kid about alternate universes, you know? Where one decision created a whole new direction for the timeline. Did you ever read those?"

"I know what you mean," Harold replied, "The multiverse theory."

"Yes. So, suppose..."

"Suppose my mother never died in childbirth..." Harold said.

"Or my dad didn't die in that accident." Shaw said, nodding at Harold.

"So, what?" Lionel said, "That would change, everything?"

"It might have," Shaw said, "It might have meant, I don't know, my dad would have been around to help me fight med school to let me be a doctor and so I was never a killer." She settled back down, "Or Root might have been believed and her friend wouldn't have been killed."

"Who we would be if we weren't us?" Joss said.

"Surely," Shaw exclaimed, "None of us grew up thinking, 'oh I'll work for some Machine some day that will point me towards people who are bad!' we all had other ideas of our careers." She looked at her team, "Right?"

"I suppose," Harold said slowly, "If my dad hadn't had Alzheimer, I never would have even thought of The Machine."

John frowned down at Harold, "I'm not sure I like the idea of a universe where I don't meet you and love you." Harold grinned at him and leaned in for a kiss.

"Yeah, what he said," Root said to Shaw with a smile.

"Okay, well," Joss said, "all I've ever wanted to be was a cop, so I doubt my life would be all that much different."

Harold nodded at her, "Good point detective. Also, I think a tenent of that theory is that people who are meant to be together, find each other. So maybe the six of us and Bear are gathered in a similar room in another universe but we're...I don't know, coffee shop workers and patrons."

"No way," John said, "Bar owners and patrons!"

Everyone laughed and the conversation moved on.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Meanwhile, in a bar, in another universe, there were six people, and a dog, hanging out after close, wondering who'd they be if they weren't who they were...


	4. Phil/Clint

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clint says 2 years, so 2 years since Avengers Assemble, Clint finds out Phil is alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one just wouldn't come, but here it is anyway. Also, thanks Mr Whedon for the idea for the dialogue. If you've ever watched Buffy, you'll recognise it. Only I don't do what he did next, the big meany.

Phil slowly rose from behind his desk, matching the open mouth expression of the man standing unexpectedly in his office door.

"Clint..." He breathed out and took an aborted step around his desk. "I..."

Clint slowly walked towards him, his eye filling with tears. "Phil?"

Phil swallowed hard and nodded. "I..."

"Shut up!" Clint yelled, "Just shut up! You don't get to talk! You don't get to distract me with perfect words or excuses or anything!"

Phil nodded again, swallowing hard. 

"Two years! Two fucking years I've been missing and longing for you!! Two years of turning to look for you to share something or send a text and finding no one there! And here you are!! Fine! Leading a new team on this fucking dream of a jet and I don't know if I want to beat the crap out of you or kiss you breathless." Clint stopped and hauled in a breath.

"Kiss him..." was heard from the crowd at the door. A glance at Daisy's quickly reddening face identified who had spoken.

"And that's our cue!" Melinda said, grabbing Daisy's sweater and pulling her backwards away from the door.

"But...ouch!" Daisy turned on Mac who had stomped on her foot. He glared at her and began to help Mel pull her backwards.

"Close the door." Clint growled, not even turning around. The loudly shut behind him while Clint heaved a breath and sank onto the floor, his whole body just not able to deal any longer. Phil started towards him hesitantly and when Clint didn’t react, he also collapsed onto the floor, not touching, but close enough for Clint to reach for him, if he wanted to.

“We should talk,” Clint whispered, so quietly Phil doubted he would have heard him if he wasn’t right there, “I know that. We should talk and talk and fight and cry and all the fucking crap,” Clint looked up at his love, “But what I really really want right now, is for you to be kissing me. So, can you just do that? Can you just kiss me?”

With a brief nod, Phil leant forward and brushed his lips against Clint’s. As one, they moaned as two years dissolved in familiar sensation, as Clint grabbed onto Phil and deepened the kiss, as Phil pushed Clint backwards until he was lying on the floor with Phil on top of him. As clothes were opened, not even taking time for removal, but just pulled out or down or up until they were skin to skin, rutting against each other, groaning into each other’s mouths. 

Neither man was being quiet and Phil had a flicker of a thought for his team and then Clint managed to get his jeans off one leg and wrapped his legs around Phil’s waist and quiet definitely didn’t matter anymore.

Some length of time later, Clint was never sure if it was 15 minutes or 30 years, their cum mingling on their bodies as they continued to kiss, Phil whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Clint just kissed him again.


End file.
